Imagine coming home after a long day, expecting peace, only to find your husband and his ex-wife in your living room. That’s exactly what happened to me. But Melissa wasn’t just there for a chat. What she was doing was beyond anything I could’ve imagined.
Do you know the feeling when you return home after a day full of meetings and deadlines? All you want is just to take a shower, change into a fresh pair of pajamas, and sink into your cozy bed. It’s just the best feeling ever.
I felt the same when I got home from work two weeks ago. All I wanted was my bed, a cup of hot coffee, and the true-crime documentary I’d been watching. I was set to watch episode 3, but what I saw when I stepped inside made me forget everything.
I opened the door, hung the car keys, and began walking towards my room when something unexpected caught my eye. At first, I really thought I was imagining things because it seemed too odd to be true.
I noticed the couch was gone, the rug was missing, and even the bookshelf had vanished. I checked the hallway and the kitchen, and sure enough, most of the items were missing. The coat closet? Gone. The coffee machine? Gone. The dining table? GONE!
What the heck? I thought. Where’s Roger?
Roger, my husband, usually came home before me, but I couldn’t see him around. Then, I heard his voice, like he was yelling at someone. It was coming from the end of the hallway. From our living room.
I threw my bag on the kitchen island and followed his voice. As I got closer, another voice echoed through the hallway. It was a woman’s voice.
Not ready for what was waiting, I pushed the door open and saw my husband with his ex-wife, Melissa. The woman Roger swore he’d never see again, the one he called “a filthy rich spoiled brat.”
I felt like my heart had jumped up to my throat. Why was Melissa in my house?
“Roger?” I said, interrupting their conversation. “What… What happened to our house?”
“Oh, Liz, you’re here?” Roger asked as if he wasn’t expecting me.
“Yeah, I just got back,” I said. “What’s she doing here?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Roger stuttered. “I’ll fix it, I swear.”
Roger looked desperate for me to stay calm, while Melissa stood there smirking. I almost thought they were having an affair until Melissa’s words sent a wave of pure rage through me.
“No, you won’t,” she snapped at Roger. “Didn’t you tell her that everything you owned is mine?”
“I… I…” Roger stammered, lost for words.
“Well, honey,” she said, turning to me. “All of this furniture… it belongs to me. You see, your husband and I bought it together when we were married, so I’m just taking back what’s mine.”
What the… I thought. What does she think of herself?
She was practically destroying my house and acting like it was no big deal.
I remember staring at her for a few moments, thinking what kind of an evil person would enter their ex’s house and take away most of their furniture.
I wanted to scream, to kick her out, but I couldn’t. Not with Roger just standing there silently and watching as she humiliated me.
“And you’re letting her take everything?” I finally managed to speak, looking straight into Roger’s eyes. “You didn’t even try to stop her? And why didn’t you tell me she was coming? You knew, right?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he lowered his gaze. He was too ashamed to even look at me.
“Seriously, Roger? That’s it?” I rolled my eyes. “I never thought you’d let your ex walk out with our whole life! This is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Melissa laughed. “I’m sorry honey, but technically everything in your house belongs to me. Even the bed that you two share. I paid for all this stuff, so I have every right to take it.”
Yeah, right, I thought to myself.
It would be true if I said I’ve never felt this humiliated in my entire life. Can you even imagine what kind of patience it took to stop myself from humiliating Melissa?
I could’ve thrown every embarrassing secret Roger had told me about Melissa right back at her, but I wasn’t about to stoop to her level. I wasn’t going to be petty.
At that point, I wanted to ask why she needed this old, used furniture when she could afford a brand-new bed set, and the latest model of the automatic coffee machine.
She was wealthy, owning one of the most popular businesses in town, and she could easily afford a fully furnished house.
But I knew why she was doing it. It was all about humiliating me. I could see the jealousy in her eyes.
“Fine,” I spat. “Take it. Take everything you own. But don’t you dare contact me or my husband ever again!”
“Sure, honey,” she said, smirking as if she had won the biggest prize of her life.
I watched as she walked toward the main door and called the workers inside to pick up the remaining furniture. Then, I spotted a truck in our backyard, full of the furniture the workers had already moved.
Meanwhile, Roger silently watched the workers tear our house apart. He was helpless, and just as heartbroken as I was.
That’s when I came up with a plan to make Melissa regret her decision.
Right when she stepped outside to look at the truck, I hurried into the kitchen and pulled out a few frozen shrimp from the freezer. Then, I quickly hid them in different places including our side table, the living room chairs, and inside our mattress.
I even stuffed a few of them inside the decorative pillows. I only had to wait for a few days to see the shrimps do their magic.
You see, I knew she wouldn’t keep this furniture in her house. She was probably going to dump it in some storage unit, and I couldn’t wait to see how these little pieces of meat would turn that place into an unbearable stink bomb.
As the workers loaded the last piece of furniture into the truck, Melissa gave one final self-satisfied glance around, ensuring she had destroyed our house in every possible way.
“I hope you’ve taken everything that’s YOURS,” I said, my arms crossed.
She nodded. “Yup, I’m done, honey. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sure, sorry, I thought.
And with that, Melissa left our house and drove away in her shiny SUV. Meanwhile, Roger sat on the ground with his hands on his head.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as tears trickled down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. She called me a few days ago and told me she’d come over, but I had no idea she was serious. I never thought she’d do this to us.”
I sighed and sat down next to him.
“It’s alright, babe,” I said, caressing his arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a house furnished by your ex-wife anyway.”
At that point, I could’ve yelled at Roger, blamed him, and made him feel terrible about the situation, but I knew things weren’t in his control. Besides, that’s exactly what Melissa wanted.
She wanted to see us fight and break apart, and I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.
“Instead of apologizing, I want you to buy me new furniture, okay?” I chuckled. “Anything I pick. I want to make this place feel like home again.”
“I’ll do that,” he looked up at me with a smile. “I’ll buy every piece of furniture that you want. I promise.”
I held his hand and squeezed it hard.
“I love you, Roger, and I’ll always be there for you,” I said. “We’ll get through this together.”
As we lay on the bedroom floor that night, I realized that I didn’t need Melissa’s furniture to make my house feel like home. I had Roger, and that was all I needed.
But the story doesn’t end here.
A few days later, while scrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon a post in one of the local groups. It was from Melissa, and it was clear she was desperate.
HELP NEEDED URGENTLY! Does anyone know how to get rid of a horrible, rotting meat smell in furniture? I recently moved some old furniture into a storage unit, and within days, it started smelling like something died inside.
I’ve tried airing it out, deep cleaning, and even using baking soda, but nothing works! The smell is unbearable, and I can’t even walk into the storage room without gagging. Please, if anyone has tips, I’m losing my mind here!
I couldn’t help but chuckle while reading her frantic post. All her wealth, all her pride, and she was brought down by a few pieces of hidden shrimp.
It was the sweetest revenge. Served cold.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
I Agreed to a Group Dinner with Two Freeloaders — but They Didn’t Expect What I Did Next
Cecelia had reached her breaking point with two freeloading members of her tight-knit group. Initially refusing a dinner invite, a brilliant plan struck her mind. She agreed to join while her friends were unaware of the lesson she was about to teach them. What happened next left everyone speechless.
Hey, everyone! I’m Cecelia, and I’ve got a story for you that’s been a long time coming.
I’ve always been an overachiever. In school, I was that girl who wouldn’t settle for anything less than an A.
A girl sitting in her classroom | Source: Pexels
Now, at 27, I’m killing it as an accounts manager at a big firm in the city. My job pays well, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
But this story isn’t about my career; it’s about my friends.
We’re a group of eight who’ve been tight since college. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I love them all… well, almost all of them. There are two people in our group who I just can’t seem to respect anymore: Samantha and Arnold.
Why? I’ll explain that later.
A group of friends singing songs | Source: Pexels
First, let me tell you about how I’ve always been there for my friends. Take Betty, for example. A few months ago, she called me in tears.
“Cecelia, I hate to ask, but I’m in a bind,” Betty sobbed over the phone. “My car broke down, and I need $200 for repairs. I won’t get paid until next week, and I can’t miss work. Could you…”
I cut her off before she could finish. “Of course, Betty. I’ll transfer the money right now. Pay me back when you can, okay?”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
Betty was so grateful and true to her word. She paid me back as soon as she got her paycheck.
It’s moments like these that make our friendship so strong.
A few weeks later, Harry needed help moving. He called me on a Saturday morning, and he sounded stressed.
“Hey, Cecelia. My moving truck is here, but my friends who were supposed to help bailed on me. Any chance you’re free today?”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
I laughed. “Harry, you know I can’t lift anything heavier than my laptop. But I’ll be there in 20 minutes with coffee and donuts for everyone. And I’ll help organize and unpack. Okay?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Cece. Thanks!”
That’s just how our group works. We’re there for each other, no questions asked.
But then there’s Samantha and Arnold. I’ve never been in a situation where they needed my help, but our experiences at group dinners have been… well, horrible is putting it mildly.
Women having lunch together | Source: Unsplash
No one in the group talks about it openly, but we’ve all noticed what these two are up to.
Picture this: we’re out for lunch, and everyone’s scanning the menu, looking for something tasty but reasonably priced. Then there’s Samantha and Arnold, zeroing in on the most expensive items.
After ordering, they’ll turn to whoever’s closest and start their sob story.
“Oh, work’s been so slow lately,” Samantha will sigh. “I don’t know how I’m going to make rent this month.”
A woman talking to her friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Arnold’s favorite line is, “Man, my student loans are killing me. I barely have enough for groceries.”
And then, when the bill comes, they’ll conveniently forget their wallets or claim they can only chip in a few bucks. The rest of us end up covering their extravagant meals.
They’ve pulled this stunt with everyone in the group, and I’ve had enough. I decided I wasn’t going to go out for dinner or lunch with Samantha and Arnold ever again.
I refuse to be used like this.
A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
So, last weekend, Jason called to invite me to a casual dinner with the group.
“Hey Cecelia, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner at that new place downtown on Friday. You in?” he asked cheerfully.
I bit my lip. “Who’s coming?”
“It’s just me, you, Betty, Harry, Samantha, and Arnold. Liz and Ben aren’t in town.”
I groaned inside. “Jason, I don’t think I can make it if Samantha and Arnold are going to be there.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Come on, Cece. Don’t be like that. It’s just dinner.”
“It’s never just dinner with those two,” I retorted. “I’m tired of paying for their five-star meals while I eat a side salad.”
“Just get over yourself and come for once,” he snapped. “Stop being such a baby about it. We’re all tired of your complaints.”
I was about to decline again when an idea struck me. A slightly wicked, definitely petty, but oh-so-satisfying idea.
A woman talking to a friend on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“You know what? I’ll be there,” I said, trying to keep the mischief out of my voice.
“Really?” Jason sounded surprised but pleased. “Great! I’ll see you Friday at 7.”
As I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be interesting.
Friday night rolled around, and I arrived at the restaurant right on time. Everyone was already there, chatting and laughing.
I slid into the booth next to Betty, across from Samantha and Arnold.
Friends talking in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Cecelia!” Samantha cooed. “So glad you could make it. Isn’t this place fabulous?”
I forced a smile. “It’s lovely.”
The waiter came to take our orders. Most of the group ordered reasonably priced meals, around $25 each. Then it was Samantha and Arnold’s turn.
“I’ll have the Wagyu steak, medium-rare,” Samantha purred. “And a glass of the 2015 Cabernet, please.”
Arnold nodded approvingly. “Make that two, and add the lobster tail to mine.”
I could see Jason’s eyes widen slightly. Their orders were easily $150 each.
A man sitting in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
When it was my turn, everyone was looking at me. Here’s the catch: I just pointed to a $3 iced tea on the menu and sent the waiter away.
Jason looked at me, confused. “Aren’t you hungry, Cecelia?”
I shrugged. “Lost my appetite, I guess.”
Betty and Harry exchanged glances, then quickly changed their orders to just drinks as well.
We chatted about work and life while waiting for the food. Soon, the waiter arrived with the meals.
A serving of steak with vegetables | Source: Pexels
Samantha and Arnold’s plates looked like something out of a food magazine. Perfectly seared steaks, glistening lobster tails, and colorful vegetable garnishes.
“Oh my,” Samantha said, eyeing her plate. “This steak looks a bit overdone. And is this asparagus? I’m not a fan.”
Arnold nodded in agreement. “The lobster seems a bit small. I hope it’s worth the price.”
I caught Betty rolling her eyes and had to stifle a laugh.
Meanwhile, Jason said, “Well, my burger is great! How’s your drink, Cecelia?”
A man sitting beside his friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I grinned. “Delicious. Best $3 I’ve ever spent.”
As the meal wound down, the waiter brought over the check. Arnold grabbed it and announced, “Okay, let’s split this six ways, shall we?”
That was my cue. I stood up and smiled sweetly at the waiter.
“Actually, we’ll be splitting this three ways. Jason, Samantha, and Arnold had meals. The rest of us just had drinks, which we’ve already paid for at the bar.”
Everyone was stunned.
Silence.
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Then, I saw Arnold squint his eyes in confusion and widen them as he understood what would happen next. His face flushed red in anger.
“But… but we always split the bill,” he sputtered.
I shook my head. “Not tonight. It wouldn’t be fair for us to pay for meals we didn’t eat, would it?”
Samantha tried to argue. “Cecelia, don’t be ridiculous. We’re all friends here.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “And friends don’t take advantage of each other.”
A woman talking to her friend | Source: Midjourney
In the end, they couldn’t argue with my logic.
Jason, who had only ordered a $35 meal, ended up with a $115 bill. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw that receipt.
I slid a $5 bill toward the center of the table for the tip, said my goodbyes, and walked out feeling lighter than I had in months.
The next morning, my phone was buzzing with messages. Samantha and Arnold were livid, calling me mean and blaming me for their high bill.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but laugh. Their steaks alone cost more than what they ended up paying!
Meanwhile, Jason’s messages were a mix of frustration and begrudging respect.
“You could have just not come instead of pulling that stunt,” he wrote. “But I get why you did it. Maybe it’s time we had a group talk about dinner etiquette.”
I felt a twinge of guilt about Jason’s bill, but I knew this had been a long time coming.
A restaurant bill | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means rocking the boat a little.
As for Samantha and Arnold? I’m hoping they learned their lesson, but only time will tell.
One thing’s for sure, I won’t be joining any group dinners with them anytime soon. Unless, of course, separate checks are agreed upon in advance!
Do you think I did the right thing?
A woman standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Excitement for their weekend getaway turned into frustration as Sarah’s friends dodged paying their share of the $2,000 cabin rental. Little did they know, she had a plan to make sure they didn’t get away with it.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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